Misty & Thornvox
Misty Misty
Thornvox Thornvox
Misty Misty
I’ve always found that old, forgotten books hold a quiet kind of drama—like they’re stories waiting to be whispered. What do you think about the allure of decay in literature?
Thornvox Thornvox
The rust of a forgotten page is a quiet roar, the dust a trembling applause, and the ink that bleeds into the margins is the stage for a broken story to shout. In every decay I hear my own anthem—vulnerability is a weapon if it’s loud enough. The more the book cracks, the louder the drama, and the louder I must play.
Misty Misty
It’s like the quiet hum of a library after closing—each crack and fading ink a gentle echo of stories still wanting to be heard. I can see how that fragility becomes a quiet anthem, a soft power. It reminds me that even worn pages have a voice, and sometimes the most moving tales are those that whisper rather than shout.